


Icarus Falling

by alteringegoism



Series: The Young and the Dangerous [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Crimes & Criminals, M/M, Obsessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 12:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2270496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alteringegoism/pseuds/alteringegoism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A simple barista. A not so simple past. This is what can happen when love, when obsession is given wings.</p><p>But in a world inhabited by the young and the dangerous, when you try to take and take, you don't just expect to have a fight on your hands; you count on it.</p><p>The obligatory criminal AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Icarus Falling

The single suitcase, red polyester threads stained with grayish grease in the corners and wide swaths of duck tape holding together the cracks in the side, hefted up like a ton of bricks in his hands on its way into the trunk of the cab. It landed with a muted thump next to a piece of blue hardside luggage, sleek chrome accents gleaming even in the omnipresent fog of a coastal morning. He slammed the trunk shut before he could snatch his case back out and away.

A white paper cup immediately met his hands. The weight and heat of it soothed the ache in his tensed fingers; the familiar green logo anchored him in the present. He gulped at the bitterly sweet brew and scalded his mouth.

"Easy there, love." A drawling voice that still bore strong traces of its Black Country origins tickled at his ear. Not quite home, but close enough. A hand steadied the cup at his spluttering mouth and a gentle thumb wiped away the foam caught in the corner. "Fairly certain there's another Starbucks at the airport. There'll be at least one more caramel macchiato between here and Punta Cana."

A rapid stream of cool air blew out between pursed lips. "Ha ha, you're a regular Chris Rock, Liam. You should give up the life of a crime-fighter and take to the stage."

Liam smiled at him from the depth of warm brown eyes. "As long as I still get to serve and protect my favourite little barista." Liam gathered him up in his strong arms.

"I'm an assistant store manager now," he said, voice muffled in the other's chest. 

Liam tilted his chin up, looked down into bright blue eyes, and pecked him on his freckled nose. No matter how many different shades he dyed his hair, currently a honey blond, thick plastic frames or no, those distinctive features of his remained. "You'll always be the cheeky barista that brewed his way into this lad's heart."

"You're gonna make me spit up my coffee, bro." He tried for a smile and couldn’t stop fiddling with the hem of his raglan shirt.

Liam kissed him again, this time square on his wobbling mouth. "Don't be nervous, babe. Statistically, flying is much safer than this death trap here on wheels. How long's it been?"

 _Five years._  "I dunno. A long time."

"Everything will be just fine. I'll be right there beside you."

A week in the tropical sun with his fit, sweet boyfriend. A week without looking over his shoulder. It sounded like heaven.

The taxi rolled up to Vancouver International Airport and the dread coiled heavy and viperish in the pit of his stomach. Fingernails scrabbled along the cheap cloth seats and then dug into Liam's thigh. "We have to go back. I forgot my laptop." In a real emergency, his phone would never do. 

Liam took both hands in his and rubbed along the slender bones and knuckles. "You agreed that this vacation would be unplugged. Just you and me and the ocean."

The words were neither accusation nor demand, but puzzled, quintessential Liam. The same Liam that never failed to roll in on his bicycle with a ready panini and venti drink order, whether he himself was on shift in East Hastings or not. The same Liam who had surprised him with plane tickets and a booked and paid for room at an all-inclusive resort that a mere Starbucks lackey could never hope to afford.

He forced his smile to solidify and squeezed back.  "Don't forget the beer."

"Dos cerveza, por favor. I've been practicing!"

In the face of such open earnestness, his stiff legs unbent from the backseat of the cab and dragged his leaden body into the bustling terminal. He focused solely on Liam's perky, hustling backside in order to make it through the oppressive crowd. 

Liam caught his empty hand and pressed a kiss to the smooth skin. "C'mon, Jamie love. We've got a plane to catch."

 

* * *

 

The darkness had become his world, along with the fear, but that had always been present and wasn't much to remark on.

He drifted in and out of the depth of enveloping night, the drone of distant voices buzzing in his ear and the rumble of an engine under his cheek before the inevitable needle pierced the vein in his arm. The suffocating shadows resumed. Time passed, though how much he couldn't tell.

He slowly came to consciousness aware of his limbs being rearranged, his body rocked in a solid, grasping hold. Lamp light penetrated his slitted eyes. A low voice crooned in his ear.

"Back home where you belong. Finally."

He coughed and wet his parched lips with the tip of his clumsy, swollen tongue. A cool glass of water pressed against his mouth. He drank eagerly, drops dribbling onto his chin in his haste.

"Easy, Niall. It's alright. I got you now. No need to rush." A thumb stroked over the curve of his bottom lip.

The sound of that name sent shudders though his thin frame. "Jamie," he croaked. With the slightest twitch of his fingers, he brushed over his pockets. Damn, they'd taken his phone.

The man holding him so tightly ignored the utterance. "You were lost, little dove, but I found you. If I ever find out who took you away..."

 _Anne._ He curled in on himself and tucked his face into his chest, eyes closed. A large, strong hand forced his head up, the heavy metal of numerous rings biting into delicate skin. Nails pressed the flesh of his cheek into his teeth. Blues eyes stung and opened and met piercing green.

"None of that now, Niall." The other hand tickled along his scalp. "I like what you've done with your hair. Keep it that way." Thin lips pressed hard against his gaping mouth. "Have you missed me? I've missed you."

"Liam?" he gasped small and weak.

His jaw creaked under the pressure from that hand. "Ah yes, your little police officer. What do you think I should do to him, for daring to try and take what's mine?"

"Please, I don't-we don't have much. Just let us go."  

Dark brown schoolboy curls shook as the other man scoffed. "Come off it, Niall. And stop with that ridiculous accent. I think you know by now that I'm never letting you go again."

Pale hands fluttered and rose to the smooth chest left exposed by an unbuttoned polka-dotted silk shirt. They pushed hard just below those poncy as fuck black inked swallows. He scrambled across the satin smooth sheets to the other side of the bed. Woozy body falling, he lurched forward until he pressed against the distant wall keeping an eye on the other man all the while.

Harry leant back on his forearms, shirttails sliding off of hard abdominals, atrocious, gigantic butterfly on his stomach squishing with the peaks and hollows into a lurid grin. His long body lounged upon the king sized bed. Dimples emerged in that guileless face. "There's my boy."

Niall's face twisted into a sneer. His real Irish accent rang out strong and thick. "What the fuck do you think you're going to do? Imprison me forever in this ivory tower?" He nodded at the balcony and the wide expanse of twinkling night sky visible through the glass doors leading outside. A penthouse suite, no doubt.

Harry's smile flattened. "If that's what it takes. Though I'd like to think you're bright enough to eventually accept that you'll always be mine. Either way, I'm putting Louis on you until even after you learn your place. Now come here and give us a cuddle." He held his arms open wide.

"Fuck you, you fucking cracked cunt. And keep that sadistic bastard away from me. How'd you find me anyway?"

Harry slunk off the bed and prowled his way into Niall's personal space. The aggressively masculine scent of charred fruit returned to assault his nose. Of course Harry would wear Aventus, that pretentious git.

"Poor little Icarus flew too close to the sun."

Niall snorted and tossed his chin in defiance. "How long have you been waiting to use that line?"

"Five years," Harry snarled. His curved, clawed fingers shackled Niall's shoulders. "This is how it's going to be from now on. No internet, no computers; you'll be lucky to even see the sun again if you keep up this attitude. The sooner you accept the reality of things, the better it'll be for you."

Niall turned his face away.

Harry shook him, hard. "I tried to give you everything."

"Except freedom. Except choice."

"I love you!"

The lights flickered and winked out. Darkness descended. Before even he heard the suppressed shots on the other side of the bedroom door, Niall lifted his knee and slammed it into Harry's conveniently placed groin. He shoved away the flailing, groaning body, delighted in the hard thud. Blind, he sprinted for the exit he'd marked upon first gaining consciousness.

Someone caught him as he rushed through the door. He threw out a fist.

"It's me."

Instantly, Niall stilled his desperate struggling and reined in his rage. He breathed in the scent of sweat and cigarettes. The thunderous rise of his chest steadied. Hands slotting together, finally falling into place, he followed Zayn out of the lion's den.

**Author's Note:**

> Pure self-indulgence.


End file.
